


Can I Be Forgiven?

by anephemeralmind



Series: Blind Love [7]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Armie Has Bad Parents, Blind Character, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a little fluff, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anephemeralmind/pseuds/anephemeralmind
Summary: Chapter 1: Armie doesn't deal too well with their first fight.Chapter 2: Timmy’s POV





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Grandma, it's me. Anastasia 
> 
> Apparently I have a thing for 7 month gaps with this series. Sorry about that 😬😬😬  
And sorry for the angst too, what a shit way to return.

Looking back at it now, Armie should have just stayed at home. He should have known that his bad mood would sour everything, and ruin his and Timmy’s evening.

But instead of staying in, and wallowing in misery while listening to angry heavy metal on his headphones to drown out the world, he’d grabbed his school books and gone over to Timmy’s place, as he’d promised, so they could finish up their homework — before they finished their evening with some (read: a lot of) kissing, and cuddling.

He loved how adamant Timmy was about doing their homework before anything else, and he knows that if not for him, Armie wouldn’t be giving two shits about it at all. In fact, his grades had never been better than since he started dating Timmy, even his teachers had made a note of Timmy being a good influence on him.

As much as he loved Timmy, and no matter how much it would’ve broken his heart to break a promise to him, he should have stayed at home. He should have known that nothing good could ever come from the bad mood he was in when he’d left his house.

He should have known. He _did_ know. But did he listen to that voice shouting at the top of its lungs inside his head? No. He’d ignored it, and consequently fucked everything up beyond repair. As fucking always.

Like most bad things in Armie’s life – it was all his parents fault.

They had been ignoring him for weeks, and he’d gotten used to being treated like air – preferred it even. But that day, when he came home from school, his dad was waiting for him in the hallway, drunk out of his mind.

Armie had only planned to drop by for a quick shower and a change of clothes, since his last class of the day had been gym. Timmy was exempt from gym, for obvious reason, so he’d been picked up by Pauline and they’d had a cute little brother-sister date at the mall.

Timmy had been a little pouty about it, saying that he’d much rather stay and wait for Armie to finish so they could go home together like always, but Armie had promised him that he’d be there waiting for him when he got home.

And he wasn’t about to break his promises.

Unlocking his front door, the first thing Armie noticed was the sour smell of stale sweat and alcohol. It’d been a while since the last time he’d come home to this, and he’d kind of forgotten how nauseating it really was.

Looking around for the source of the smell, he found his dad sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, glaring up at him – a half empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the faggot.” His dad snarls at him, stumbling to his feet, the whiskey sloshing around in the bottle as he struggles to maintain his balance. “You have some nerve! Coming into _my_ home, as if you’re not a fucking abomination.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Armie mutters, trying to side step his dad and make his way up the stairs as fast as he can, so he can lock himself into his bedroom and wait for his dad to fall asleep, which he always did after drinking as heavily as he’d been doing so far.

Unfortunately, even as drunk as he is, his dad’s reflexes are fast enough to grab Armie’s wrist before he gets too far. “Oh no you don’t!” His dad slurs, looking up at Armie, disgust written all over his face.

Even though his dad is a good 7 inches shorter than Armie, there is absolutely nothing to say about his strength, Armie knows he goes to the gym just about every day, and when he tightens his grip on Armie’s wrist, it actually really fucking hurts.

“You don’t get to walk away when I’m talking to you!” his dad roars, dragging Armie backwards by his wrist, and pushing him up against the front door, knocking the air right out of his lungs.

“Look at the scared little faggot.” His dad crows, getting all up in Armie face and pointing his finger at him. “You’re nothing but a sissy, you know that right?”

It’s been a long, long, time since Armie’s been scared of his dad physically hurting him, but as he raises his hand, Armie finds himself bracing for a punch – which just makes his dad laugh, a cruel and bone-chilling sound.

“A fucking freak of nature.” His dad cackles, poking his finger into Armie’s chest, hard enough to bruise, getting up on his tip toes to look directly into Armie’s eyes, a wicked and unhinged smile on his face. “A weak little girl, taking it up the ass and _enjoying it!_”

Armie winces at the sour smell of his breath, before his dad cackles to himself and stumbles into the living room, dropping the bottle of whiskey to the ground along the way – shards of glass and the remnants of the amber liquid splattering all over the floor.

“Your fucking fault, faggot.” His dad spits at Armie over his shoulder, before he drops into the sofa and instantly starts snoring.

Armie doesn’t know how long he stands there, back against the front door, desperately trying to keep his breathing under control, but he’d be willing to bet that it was a good ten minutes, if not more.

The only reason he gets moving up the stairs to his bedroom, is that he hears his mom’s car pull into the driveway, and he just can’t face her right now.

Slamming the door behind him, he grabs the books he needs for his homework, shoves them into his backpack, and hurries back down the stairs. He hears his mom muttering to herself in the living room, but he’s already out the door before she has the time to realize he’s there.

Storming over to Timmy’s house, he should have realized that he was not in the right mood to be around people, especially not someone as sweet and loving as Timmy – because all Armie wanted to do right then, was break something.

Armie had hoped that being around Timmy would calm him down, because it usually did, everything always seemed so much brighter and better with Timmy cuddled up in his arms.

But not today.

He can’t shake the anger bubbling in his stomach, and even though he tries his fucking best not to take it out on Timmy, he obviously isn’t doing as well as he’d hoped.

They’re laying together on Timmy’s bed, Timmy’s head pillowed on his chest, when Timmy pokes his stomach and pushes himself up on his elbow, reaching out to stroke Armie’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Timmy whispers, and Armie knows he’s just trying to be nice, that he’s worried about him, and just wants him to share his burdens with him so they can work through them together – another thing he’d promised.

But instead of keeping that promise, Armie just shakes his head and pushes himself up into a seated position, hunching in on himself. “It’s nothing, just drop it.”

Of course Timmy doesn’t drop it, and keeps trying to get Armie to open up to him, like any good boyfriend would.

In the end, Armie isn’t sure what it is that sets him off, all he knows is that in one minute he’s sat on Timmy’s bed trying to keep calm and not break down into tears, and the next, they’re standing in the middle of Timmy’s bedroom shouting at each other.

He can’t even remember what it was he said anymore, but the heartbreak and hurt that flashes across Timmy’s face as his words hit home, he’ll _never _forget that.

“Get out.” Timmy says quietly, covering his face with his hand so that Armie can’t look at him.

“No, Timmy, _please,_ I’m sorry. I didn’t –” Armie starts, but Timmy cuts him off almost immediately.

"Get out!" Timmy shouts, and grabs something from his desk and throws it in Armie’s direction – obviously since he’s not able to see what he grabs, or where Armie is actually standing, he has no idea if he hits him or not.

Armie doesn’t think Timmy actually wanted to hurt him, not like that, but when the spray-bottle of deodorant hits him in the face and splits his lip, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood, all his rage bubbles over again and he finds himself shouting, “Fine! You know what, _fuck you!_” before turning around and storming out of Timmy’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him so all the pictures on the wall shake, threatening to fall down and break.

He meets Timmy’s mom in the middle of the stairs, she’d obviously heard their fight and was on her way to make sure everything was alright – which clearly, it wasn’t. She takes one look at him, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my god, Armie! Are you alright?”

In lieu of an answer, feeling his eyes fill with tears, he just shoulders his way past her, and hurries out of the front door. As he wipes away the blood from his split lip on the back of his wrist, knowing his only option is to go back home, he lets out a wounded howl.

By some stroke of luck, he doesn’t run into his mom when he gets home, and he can still hear his dad’s loud drunk snores coming from the living room. Running up the stairs to his bedroom, the tears finally slip down his cheeks, and a sob tears itself free from his throat.

He’s just slammed the door shut behind him, and locked it, just in case, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s got half a hope that it might be from Timmy, telling him to come back, so they can talk. But when he picks it up, it’s from Pauline.

_<Timmy is crying, wtf did you do?!>_

Instead of answering her, Armie tightens his grip on the phone to the point of pain, before he throws it at the door with a loud yell.

Watching it shatter to a thousand little pieces is far too satisfying, and he knows that if he doesn’t get himself to the gym right this very second, the next thing that will be breaking, is his own bones – and he’d promised Timmy he wouldn’t do that to himself anymore.

He knows he already fucked up, that Timmy doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, that their relationship is over, but he still can’t get himself to break those promises.

Shoving some work out clothes into a bag, Armie storms out the door again, this time his mom meets him at the bottom of the stairs, looking at him with an unimpressed glare. “Got your ass kicked, huh?” She snarls, looking a little too pleased. “Good.”

Armie doesn’t have the energy to argue with her, and just continues walking out the door, not sparing her a single glance, not even when she yells after him “I hope you fucking burn in hell!”

He can’t remember the drive to the gym at all, but he somehow manages to get there in one piece all the same. It’s the first time he’s there outside of his scheduled boxing lessons, but Daniel had given him a key his first day, and told him to use it whenever he felt the need.

There is no need for him to use the key now, since the gym is still open, but just knowing that he has this safe haven to retreat to when things at home just gets too much – Armie is forever grateful.

Despite the fact that he’d promised Daniel, and Gladys for that matter, that he’d always wrap his hands before using any of the boxing equipment, Armie bypasses the wraps completely, and heads right out into the corner where the sandbags are set up.

He only gets a couple of punches in, before Daniel pops up out of nowhere, placing a calming hand down on his shoulder. “Armie, stop.”

With one final punch, feeling the sweet sting of pain shoot up his arm, Armie steps back, pushing his sweat slicked hair off his forehead. “What?” He spits out, crossing his arms in front of himself.

Daniel just shakes his head, and reaches for Armie’s hand, gently untangling it and pulling it closer to himself, inspecting Armie’s already bruising knuckles. “I thought we had an agreement.” He whispers, looking up at Armie with a sad smile.

“I know.” Armie mumbles, “I just… I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head again, Daniel pulls a couple of wraps out of his pocket, and helps Armie get started with wrapping his hands. “The whole point of this, Armie, is to deal with the pain you feel inside in a healthy way. To let the anger flow through your fists, without hurting yourself in the process.”

“Yeah.” Armie falters in the middle of the wrapping, and Daniel quickly takes over, tightening it a lot more than Armie had done.

“Nothing good ever comes from hurting yourself like this, you know that right?” Daniel asks quietly, and when Armie just nods, he smiles softly at him before finishing up and handing Armie the second set of wraps.

This one Armie manages to do himself, just as tightly as Daniel had done, and he’s ready to go back to punching the shit out of the sandbags.

It really is therapeutic, just beating the shit out of something. He’d never been this angry, or hurt, during any of his lessons, and while it had been fun then too, it was completely different this time. He really felt like all his anger was flowing out of him through his fists, and it was such a sweat release, and even better, it really didn’t have to hurt him in the process.

Though he did sometimes savor that pain, had used it to clear his head on more than one occasion, he couldn’t deny that this was just as good – if not better.

By the time he feels clear headed enough to stop, his tank-top is soaked through, and his hair is dripping with sweat. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself, grinning a little as he starts undoing the wraps.

“Feel better?” Daniel asks, appearing out of nowhere yet again.

“Yeah, thanks man.” Armie nods, running a hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s cool.” Daniel shrugs, before raising an eyebrow. “Just, never again, okay?”

“Yeah, promise.”

After a quick shower, Armie is back in his car, but he quickly realizes he has nowhere to go. He can’t go home, that’s for sure, and while he’d normally go to Elizabeth’s after something like this, he doesn’t feel like he can do that right now either.

Not after she started dating Saoirse, who was Timmy’s best friend. It was pretty clear to him that they’d take Timmy’s side in this, and Armie didn’t have any other friends he could stay with.

At least he had his car.

Deciding that if he was going to spend the night sleeping alone in his car, he might as well get something that would make falling asleep easier. So for the first time since he met Timmy, he drives over to the skatepark, where his old dealer – hopefully – still hangs out.

Luckily, Armie spots him easily enough, and walks right over to him. “Hey, Fred.” He says quietly, smiling when the guy turns towards him with a surprised grin.

“A-Ham! My man.” He pulls Armie in for a quick hug and pats him on the back. “Been a while, dude. You good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Armie nods, looking around and making sure that no one is really watching them. “You packing?”

“Always.” Fred grins, quickly showing him a little baggie. “Want your usual?”

“Please.” Armie nods, pulling a couple of bills out of his pocket, subtly handing them to Fred and getting the baggie in return, just like in a bad TV show.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Fred grins, giving him a quick salute before he heads over towards a group of skaters who’d been signaling for him.

Armie drives around aimlessly for awhile, and without really knowing how, he ends up at a remote hilltop, overlooking the city. Digging his grinder out of the glove box – he had one stored pretty much everywhere, just in case – Armie presses the cigarette lighter button on his dashboard, and grins as it starts heating up.

Grinding up the buds and rolling the joints was also extremely therapeutic, but in a completely different way, because while the boxing got him out of his head for a little while, he knew this would shut his brain up for several hours – and he really needed that right now.

Lighting up the joint with the shitty car lighter took a little time, but it’s not like Armie was in a rush to get anywhere, so it didn’t really bother him. When it finally caught light, he sucked the smoke into his lungs gratefully, smiling as he could feel the weed start to numb him down almost immediately.

He got up on the hood of his car, and laid back, looking up at the sky. It was really beautiful up here, he could totally see himself staying there forever, it wasn’t like anyone would miss him if he disappeared.

His parents would probably just celebrate, and Timmy… Well, Timmy just wanted him gone, he’d made that quite clear.

Somewhere between finishing the joint, and looking up at the sky – trying really hard to find some stars – Armie falls asleep. He doesn’t know how long he sleeps for, since his only way of keeping track of the time was his phone, which was still in a thousand pieces on his bedroom floor, but it’s gotten a lot darker, and surprisingly chilly.

Despite the cold, all Armie can think of is getting his hands on an In-N-Out burger, so even though he still feels slightly sluggish, and probably shouldn’t be driving anywhere, Armie gets back behind the wheel.

The next thing he remembers, is the sound of someone’s car horn, flashing lights, and a terrifyingly loud crunching noise.

Then everything goes dark.

“_Please Armie, open your eyes for me.”_

“_I don’t think he can hear you, baby.”_

“_Of course he can, I know he can.”_

“_Armie? I love you, come back to me. Please?”_

“_Yo, Hammer, I’m gonna need you to open your eyes, okay? Timmy misses you, a lot. I… Fuck, I might miss you a little too, but don’t fucking tell anyone.”_

“_Timmy is losing his mind without you, we’re all really worried about you, but, Timmy really needs you to open your eyes now.”_

“_Please baby, please don’t leave me. Not like this.”_

Everything hurts. His eyelids are so fucking heavy, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t open his eyes. Letting out a pained groan, he feels someone wrap their hands around his palm. “Armie?”

He recognizes that voice, he’d know it anywhere, and he’d genuinely thought he’d never get to hear it again. It takes everything in him, but he manages to open one eye, just enough, to be able to see the blurry outline of Timmy, sitting in a chair right next to his bed.

“’mmy?” He mumbles, before coughing, the driest cough he thinks he’s ever had in his entire life. His entire throat is so fucking dry, every cough is like two coarse pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

“Yes, it’s me.” Timmy gives his hand a little squeeze. “Do you want some water?”

He still can’t open his eyes all the way, but manages to give a little nod, and a couple of seconds later, he feels the rim of a plastic cup against his mouth, and when water hits his lips he opens his mouth and swallows down greedily.

Armie honestly can’t remember the last time water tasted this fucking good, but he drains that cup in less than three seconds.

“Mmm.” He moans, giving another try to open his eyes, but it’s way too fucking bright, and he starts feeling a little like a Gremlin as he whispers, “Bright lights.”

“Mom, turn the lights off.” Timmy commands. “Is that better?” He asks, running his fingers through Armie’s hair, waiting for him to try and open his eyes again.

Slowly opening one eye, it’s a lot easier than before. He still can’t get it all the way open, because for some reason it really fucking hurts, but the other eye goes a lot easier. Looking around the room, he sees a lot of white, as well as Timmy, and Timmy’s mom standing over by the door with her hand on the light switch.

Even though he’s already worked out that he’s in a hospital, much thanks to the annoying beeping of the heart monitor, as well as all the _white_, he can’t stop himself from frowning at Timmy and asking. “Where am I?”

A tear runs down Timmy’s cheek, and Armie goes to wipe it away, but when he lifts his arm, it’s covered in a massive cast, and he lets out a questioning noise. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Timmy asks, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist.

“Uhm… Burgers.” Armie clears his throat. “I remember I wanted burgers.”

With a nod, Timmy’s hand searches for his on the bed, and when he finds it, he gives it a gentle squeeze again. “There was a car accident.” Timmy whispers wetly. “You… You ran a red light, and got t-boned by an SUV.”

“Oh.” Armie mumbles, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a deep breath. “Shit.”

“Were you…” Timmy’s voice cracks, and Armie looks back down at him, seeing him with tears flowing down his cheeks breaks Armie’s heart into a thousand pieces. “Were you trying to kill yourself?”

“What?” Armie looks over at Nicole, eyes wide, but she just smiles sadly back at him. “No, Timmy, _No!_” He tries to push himself up into a seated position, but it hurts way too fucking much, and he has to give up. “I wouldn’t… I thought you hated me, but, I still wouldn’t.”

“Hated you?” Timmy gasps, patting his hand up Armie’s chest until he reaches his face, cupping his cheek. “I could never _hate_ you.” Timmy whispers, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Armie’s lips. “I _love_ you, Armie Hammer, forever and ever.”

“Destiny?” Armie whispers wetly, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Destiny.” Timmy nods, leaning in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouuuffffffffffff ☹️
> 
> This Armie has so many issues, a lot a lot. And his parents are the literal worst, I legit got mad while writing their dialog, hahaha. But yeah, shit parents, and loads of issues as a result. He is trying though, even if his coping mechanisms still aren't the best. 
> 
> We'll be back with a lot more fluff in the next part, I promise. I also promise to update before another 7 months pass ❤️
> 
> The title comes from the lovely Highasakite song with the same name, do yourself a favor and listen to that. Then you can come yell at me on tumblr if you wanna, @anephemeralmind over there too


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise?
> 
> This wasn't supposed to exist, but, here you go.

Timmy should have known better than to keep poking and prodding to get Armie to talk when he was obviously not ready. He should have waited for the worst of Armie’s bad mood to pass, and then get him to talk it out later.

That would have worked much better, but it’s not what he did, and to say it blew up in his face was an understatement.

He could tell that something was wrong the second Armie walked into his bedroom. Usually Armie exuded nothing but love and happiness when he was with Timmy, but now, while there was still love there, it was overshadowed by anger, pain and, was that… Fear?

Timmy could also smell a faint tinge of whiskey on Armie’s shirt, which made his stomach turn, because he remembered what Armie had said about his dad and how he behaved while drunk. He tried to be as subtle about it as he could, while he carefully ran his hands all over Armie, checking for injuries.

While he couldn’t find any obvious physical ones, which did make him breathe a lot easier, it was still obvious that, mentally, Armie was in agony.

They did their homework pretty much on autopilot, and in total silence.

Timmy had tried to suggest that they’d skip it, but Armie had sounded so scandalized at the mere suggestion of Timmy skipping anything to do with school, and jeopardizing his perfect grades, so Timmy had just lightly shaken his head, and gone to grab his books, while Armie helped to hook the braille keyboard up to the laptop.

Later, when they were cuddled up in bed, after a rather hefty make out session, Armie was lightly running his fingers through Timmy’s curls while he had his head pillowed on his chest, and despite how good that all felt, Timmy knew it was getting late, and he couldn’t let Armie leave without trying to get him to talk.

So gathering all his courage, sucking in a deep breath, Timmy pokes Armie lightly in what he hopes is his stomach, and pushes himself up on his elbow, reaching out to find Armie’s face, gently stroking his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers, regretting it almost instantly when he feels Armie freeze up beneath him, before he gently eases himself out from underneath Timmy, and Timmy can hear his feet hit the floor, but his weight is still on the bed, so at least he didn’t up and leave.

“It’s nothing, just drop it.” Armie murmurs, the sound muffled enough that Timmy can perfectly picture him sitting hunched over, with his face hidden in his hands. And when he reaches out to stroke Armie’s back, he smiles sadly as he realizes he was right.

“Armie, baby, you can tell me anything, you know that right?”

Timmy should have known to drop it when he had felt Armie shaking his head, before his whispered, “I know, just, not now Timmy. Please.”

He should have respected Armie wishes, should have trusted that Armie would tell him when he was ready. Instead, he kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing.

The next thing he knew, they were standing in the middle of his bedroom, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs.

Deep down, he knows that neither one of them really means any of the horrible things they’re saying, that they’re both just too caught up in the heat of the moment, and are choosing things they know would cut the other person to pieces – but it still catches him a little by surprise when Armie’s cruel words hits him, and it hurts so much it takes his breath away.

He never thought he’d feel pain like this, but his heart is fucking breaking, and he needs Armie to leave. He needs to be alone. Preferably before he, or Armie, say any more things they’re gonna regret, or worse, things they can’t come back from.

“Get out.” Timmy says quietly, wincing as he hears Armie’s pained inhale, making it very obvious to Timmy that he was crying, or at least very close to tears.

“No, Timmy, _please_. I’m sorry. I didn’t –” Armie starts, but Timmy can’t listen to his pleas right now, he just really needs Armie to leave.

“Get out!” He shouts, and when it becomes clear that Armie has no intentions of going, Timmy feels rage bubbling over in his stomach, and he reaches out and grabs the first thing he finds, throwing it in Armie’s direction.

He doesn’t know what he grabbed, and he doesn’t know where he’d thrown it, but he hears it hit Armie with a thud – he’d feel a lot worse about it if he wasn’t too busy being pissed that Armie hadn’t listened to him in the first place.

“Fine! You know what,_ fuck you!_” He hears Armie shout, before the door slams shut, and Timmy sinks to his knees, sobbing his heart out.

Now that Armie had left, he just wanted him to come back.

His mom comes bursting into his room just seconds later, he knows it’s her because she instantly crouches down in front of him and wraps her arms around him in a comforting hug. “Shhh, baby, what happened? What did you do to Armie?”

“Wha- What do you mean?” Timmy gasps out, “I didn’t do anything.”

“He was bleeding, baby. His lip was split open, I don’t think he did that to himself.” His mom gently tips his head up, and takes his face between her palms, probably trying to get him to look into her eyes. “Did you punch him, Timothée?”

“No.” Timmy sobs, forcing his head back down on his mom’s shoulder. “I threw something, I don’t know what it was. I didn’t even know that I hit him – _fuck_, I’m such an asshole.”

His mom continues stroking his back, letting him get his sobs out and calm down a little before she kept talking. “You should know better than to throw things, but, from what I could hear, it seems like you both fucked up here. I’m sure that once you’ve calmed down, and sit down and talk this out, it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” Timmy whispers, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist. “I really hope so.”

It’s a couple of hours later, when Timmy tries calling Armie for the first time – but it just goes straight to voicemail, which makes Timmy’s stomach drop. Armie never sent him to voicemail. Never.

Granted, they’d never had a fight like this before either, but he could feel it in his soul, that something was wrong. He gets his mom to check if Armie’s car is still parked outside his house, but when she says that no, it’s not there, Timmy’s anxiety kicks into high gear.

Pulling up his phone, he dictates a message for Elizabeth.

<Hey, sorry for texting this late, but, is Armie at yours?>

Elizabeth calls him just seconds later, and he picks it up while holding his breath.

“He’s not here.” is the first thing she says, and Timmy swears his heart just stops. “What happened? Timmy? Timmy, you need to breathe, okay? Please? Take a breath for me.” As Timmy sucks in some much needed air, he hears Elizabeth do the same on the other end of the call. “Good, good, that’s good.” She rambles, “Now, please, will you tell me what happened?”

He relays most of what had happened, or at least the bits and pieces he felt she needed to hear – like how he’d thought he could smell whiskey on Armie’s clothes, how he was obviously upset about something, how he’d refused to talk about it, and how it had all ended in a fight where Armie stormed off and now he wasn’t picking up his phone and Timmy had no idea where he was.

“Shit.” Is all Elizabeth says when he finishes, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You don’t think… You don’t think he’s going to do anything stupid, do you?” Timmy whispers, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Honestly? Timmy, I don’t know.” Elizabeth sighs, and Timmy drops down onto his bed, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. “You saw what happened last time. Or, shit, sorry, I keep fucking that up. I mean, you_ know_ what happened last time.”

“Yeah.” Timmy frowns, feeling more than a little nauseous, as he rubs a hand across his face. “He broke his hand.”

“Exactly.” Elizabeth says quietly. “So I _wish_ I could say he’s not gonna do anything stupid, but honestly, I don’t know.”

Timmy feels his heart start to speed up even more, and his hands starts shaking from the excess adrenaline, making it hard to hold the phone in place. “You don’t… I mean, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t… Suic-” Timmy stutters out, but Elizabeth instantly cuts him off.

“_No!_ No, I don’t think… No. He wouldn’t. At least I don’t think so. …_Fuck_!” Elizabeth almost starts hyperventilating, and Timmy feels bad for even mentioning it, but her reaction doesn’t make him feel any better.

“I… I’m gonna call Saoirse.” Elizabeth says suddenly, “She can borrow her mom’s car, and we’ll drive around and see if we can find him, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, please.” Timmy cries, “Will you come pick me up, too?”

“I think it’s best if you stay there.” Elizabeth says, making Timmy frown, and he’s just about to curse her out when she explains herself. “Just, in case he comes back home, it’s best if you’re there, you know? We’ll call you as soon as we hear anything.” She promises, and Timmy finds himself agreeing, even though he’d much rather be out there, actively searching.

Elizabeth keeps her promise, and keeps updating him as she and Saoirse drive around, going to Armie’s usual haunts, seeing if he’s there.

  
_<Dan at the gym said he’s been there, but left a couple of hours ago.>_

_<He’s not at Nick’s. Not that we really thought he’d be, Nick did have a suggestion though, idk if I like the sound of it, but, I’ll update you later.>_

_<Creepy Fred at the skatepark had seen him, too. He bought some weed off of him, so hopefully he’s just parked somewhere, sleeping it off.>_

_<We’ve driven around all the parking lots and stuff, no Armie anywhere here. Has he come home?>_

  
Timmy is just about to answer her, when his phone rings, it’s an unknown number, and his heart jumps up into his throat.

“Hello?” He breathes out, bracing himself for whatever was coming next, but even then he wasn’t really prepared for who’s voice was coming over the receiver.

“Timmy?! Oh thank god.”

“Viktor?!” Why hadn’t they thought about Viktor? Maybe Armie had driven up to see him, maybe everything was fine, and this sick feeling in his stomach was nothing but guilt, and anxiety. “Is… Is Armie with you?”

“No, no, Timmy, I… Are you sitting down? I need you to sit down for me, okay?” Viktor somehow manages to sound worried and soothing at the same time, and Timmy has no idea how he does that, but it’s definitely going to come in handy for him once his kid is born.

Timmy doesn’t sit down, instead he starts pacing the length of his bedroom, placing his palm over his heart and feeling it nearly beating out of his chest. “Viktor… What – Is Armie okay? What’s happened?”

Viktor lets out a deep breath, and Timmy just knows that his world is about to fall apart. He’s going to tell him that Armie has died, and the last thing Timmy ever said to him was ‘Get out.’ Not ‘I love you’, no, he shouted at him and sent him away.

“He’s… There’s been a car accident.”

Apparently Armie had changed his emergency contact to Viktor when he was there a couple of weeks ago, according to Viktor the reason was that if anything ever were to happen to him – he wanted it to be someone who would actually give a shit if Timmy found out or not.

Since he couldn’t actually choose Timmy, because he was underage, the obvious choice was Viktor.

Viktor had already talked to the hospital staff and assured them that Timmy, his parents, and Pauline counted as family, and that they could tell them absolutely everything. So as soon as they arrived and gave Armie’s name at the reception, they were taken back to see him.

When they get into the room, Armie is lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines, a bandage wrapped around his head, a cast on his arm, and a painful looking black eye – Pauline breaks down in tears as she describes it all to him, and Timmy feels like he needs to throw up.

“It looks a lot worse than it is.” The doctor says calmly, but Timmy doesn’t feel any calmer at all. “The thing we’re the most worried about at this point, is that it seems like he has some minor swelling on his brain, which is why we’ve chosen to put him into a medically induced coma for a couple of days so we can monitor it.”

His parents keep talking to the doctor, and Timmy only picks up on a couple of words, and minor phrases, such as “Re-fractured wrist – old injury… Black eye – air bag… Appears to be levels of THC in his bloodstream… We’ll wake him in a couple of days… Should be fine…”

“This is my fault.” Timmy whispers a little while later, clutching Armie’s hand, afraid that if he lets him go he’s going to just fade away, and Timmy wouldn’t even be able to see it happening.

“Don’t say that.” Pauline snaps, “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Shit just happens sometimes.”

Timmy refuses to leave Armie’s side, the only time he does, is when he needs to pee. Other than that, he stays by Armie’s side all day, speaking to him, hoping he can hear his voice, and that it helps to make him feel less alone.

He also begs and pleads for Armie to come back to him, because despite what the doctor’s are saying, he’s still not quite sure that Armie is ever going to open his eyes again.

The day the doctor’s decide to wake Armie up, Timmy holds his breath. He doesn’t breathe until he hears Armie let out a pained groan, and then he instantly wraps his hands around Armie’s again.

“Armie?” He asks quietly, afraid that he heard wrong, that Armie wasn’t awake at all, that it was just a figment of his imagination, and the doctor’s were wrong, that nothing was ever going to be fine ever again.

“’mmy?” Armie mumbles, before he starts coughing, one of the most painful sounding coughs that Timmy has ever heard.

The doctor’s had warned them about that though, had said it was a usual side effect of having been intubated, that Armie’s throat was bound to be sore, and that all they could do was to make sure he drank enough water.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Timmy says quietly, giving Armie’s hand a little squeeze. “Do you want some water?”

Timmy can’t see what happens next, but he assumes Armie nods, because he feels his mom come up next to him, and then the sounds of Armie slurping down water reaches his ears, making him smile.

Armie has to stay in the hospital for a few more days, which he was none too happy about. But after he’d complained a couple of times too many, Timmy’s mom had lectured him in the way that only a mom could – saying things about how much they’d all worried about him, and that he was staying in this fucking hospital for as long as it would take the doctor’s to feel safe enough to release him – Armie had stopped complaining almost instantly. 

Timmy knew that as much as Armie hated staying in the hospital, the idea of going home was even worse, and he’d talked to his parents about it, breaking his promise to Armie that he’d never tell anyone just how bad it could get with his dad. Naturally, they’d been beyond horrified, and decided right then and there that Armie was moving into their guest room.

Rubbing his thumb against Armie's split lip, Timmy had tried to apologize for making this all happen, but Armie had pulled Timmy closer, and whispered into his ear that it wasn't his fault, that Armie was the one that should apologize, that he didn't mean any of what he'd said, and how happy he was that Timmy had chosen to forgive him for it. 

"There is nothing to forgive, Armie." Timmy says, tears running down his face. "If it wasn't my fault, then it's not yours either." 

They drove Armie home from the hospital the next day, and as soon as they'd parked, his dad had quickly grabbed Armie's bag out of the back, and carried it into the guest room, which from here on out would be known as Armie's room, calling out a cheerful “Welcome home, Armie! Hope you like your new room.”

Armie had stopped dead right in the middle of the hallway, obviously not fully realizing what was happening. “_What?_”

“Oh yeah.” Timmy’s dad says, walking back down and ruffling Armie’s hair before doing the same to Timmy. “Didn’t Timmy tell you? You live here now.”

“Wha- But, no, you…” Armie stumbles over his words, and Timmy reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a light squeeze.

“Don’t even start.” Timmy’s dad says calmly, “This is happening. Besides, it’s not like that much is really changing, you basically already lived here, now you’re just gonna sleep here too.”

Before Armie has the chance to say anything else, the front doors slam open, and Timmy hears Pauline huffing and puffing, angrily ranting to herself before there’s two muffled thuds.

“Motherfucking assholes, I swear to god, never wanted to kill anyone this badly in my life.” She mutters as she closes the doors behind her.

“Pauline? Are those my bags? What… What happened to your hand?!” Armie lets go of Timmy’s hand and walks over to Pauline. “Is that… Is that blood?”

Timmy hears Pauline suck in a deep breath, before a saying in a sheepish voice. “Yeah… I _miiiight_ have punched your dad in the face.”

Unable to stop himself from letting out a snort, Timmy wishes he could give Pauline a high five, but knowing it wasn’t really the right time.

“What?! Why would-” Armie sounds horrified, before he instantly turns worried. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No, I’m fine I promise.” Pauline says quietly, and Timmy hears her pull Armie in for a hug, making him smile.

“But…” Armie starts. “Why did you do that?”

“Because.” Timmy startles a little as Pauline suddenly takes his hand, pulling him a little closer, getting up on her tip toes and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, and he can hear her do the same to Armie. “Nobody fucks with my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol yeah, so, this chapter wasn't supposed to be a thing, but then a couple of people said it'd be interesting to see this from Timmy's pov, and my brain didn't want to shut up, so here we are.
> 
> Idk if this was really worth it, but, heeyy, it's here. Hahaha
> 
> Also, it's really hard writing something where there are zero visual cues because your main character can't actually see anything. If I fucked up, I'm really sorry.
> 
> Also also, I'm obviously not a doctor, so any and all medical talk is just pure bullshit. ehehehe


End file.
